Careless Ambivalence
by sophiedoodle
Summary: Now complete! This is a combination of "Careless" and "Ambivalence" which are basically the same story from two different POVs. These stories deal with Chakotay's relationship with Seven, Kathyn's reaction, and what happens after. Don't worry---it's J/C!
1. Chapter 1

Careless

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Author's Note: This story is actually the combination of two separate POV stories, originally titled "Careless" and "Ambivalence." Several reviewers suggested combining the two as alternating chapters so I thought I would experiment :)

Chapter 1--Chakotay

For about the thousandth time, Chakotay wondered why he was doing this. It had been rather flattering at first, although he wasn't one who usually gravitated towards flattery. It had been a welcome diversion from the day-to-day stresses of Voyager, although he was normally quite content with his life outside of his duties. And, if he truly admitted to the deepest whisperings of his heart, it had been a way to punish _her _and maybe himself too, although it was never anything he would have consciously planned to do.

But now, suddenly, it had become so much more. It had become a path leading towards an almost-love, almost-antipathy that he just couldn't seem to follow. It had become unreal pleasure. It had become too-real torture. It had become guilt.

And of all things, he wasn't a man who dealt in guilt. But at this point, he didn't know how to pull himself from the mire.

When Seven had first approached him, he had almost laughed. He had heard rumors that the Doctor had been tutoring her on interpersonal relationships, specifically of the romantic genre, but he had never expected to become an active variable in the experiment. He and Seven had never been particularly close or even particularly friendly with one another; in fact, the only other member of the crew he had once harbored such antipathy towards had been Tom Paris. Yes, their unintentional mission on Ledos had gone a long way towards helping them understand one another, and he had finally begun to see the potential that Kathryn was immersed in when it came to her Borg protégé. But he had never thought that their tentative friendship would progress any further.

And then she had asked him out.

Chakotay was not an unkind man, and he had seen the fear of rejection in her eyes that belied the offhand passivity of her words. And so he had accepted with some trepidation. And then been pleasantly surprised.

Dating and romantic relationships were totally new to Seven, a facet of humanity previously unexplored, and her refreshing innocence tamed by her not-quite-admitted hesitance brought a lightness to his heart that was entirely unexpected. He found himself captivated, if not necessarily by her, then by the experience of teaching someone so open and unencumbered by past heartaches about what it meant to give yourself to someone else.

In many ways he could be honest with her. He didn't have to manipulate her into spending time with him by couching it in terms of work. He didn't have to temper the smile that would spread across his face when she walked into a room. He didn't have to hide his feelings and pretend with every ounce of his self-control that their relationship was purely platonic.

In many ways, it was freeing.

But in other ways, and in all the wrong ones, he felt the shackles of his bondage cutting even more sharply. Because despite the simplicity of his relationship with Seven, despite the straightforwardness of his blossoming feelings for her, it was still wrong.

Wrong for him and wrong for her. Because when it came down to it, _he_ was wrong. Wrong for stepping onto this path in the first place, wrong for encouraging something that he knew would never have a happy ending. Wrong for turning his back on Kathryn.

And he _had _turned his back. On her. On his promises. On his hopes and dreams and every ounce of the _someday_ that had kept him going _every day_ for the past years on-board Voyager. And when you derailed yourself from the driving force that kept you going, you simply went nowhere.

That was where Chakotay was. Stopped in his tracks.

And then the Admiral came and suddenly everything in his life snowballed into an avalanche whose incipient fury buried him far below the surface of his good intentions.

Number one, they got home.

And number two, _she told Kathryn_.

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Ambivalence

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 1--Kathryn

Kathryn Janeway felt like she'd been running for a very long time. Running from who she was, what she wanted. _Who she loved_. Until now. Suddenly she had been brought to an abrupt standstill by the brick wall of the Alpha Quadrant, and everything she thought she had left far behind had caught up with her. It should have been comforting. It should have been a catharsis. It should have given her the freedom to finally _live._

So why was she sitting here in the pitch-black of her quarters with her head in her hands, crying like she hadn't cried in years?

Maybe because she hadn't.

They were back on Earth. Voyager was home. It was all she had been dreaming of, hoping for, for seven guilt-filled years in the Delta Quadrant.

But it wasn't.

Because the soul-baring truth was that she hadn't allowed herself to cry because she had been dreaming for seven years of Voyager being home—and of _him_ finally, at long last, being by her side as so much more than her First Officer.

And so here she sat. Crying. A fine example of the best that Starfleet had to offer.

No one who had met her or spent any amount of time in her presence would say that Kathryn Janeway was a coward. Her infamous death glare by itself would make that assumption unwise, and her unyielding bottom line when dealing with desperate situations and war-hungry aliens would provide further contradiction.

But they would all be wrong. Because deep down inside, under all that bluster and command posturing, she really was a coward.

At least when it came to the things that really mattered.

And so she had gone on like time was a blessing and not a curse, like each and every day spent in the Delta Quadrant was one more day closer to home. One more day closer to _him_. She had alternately pulled him closer and then pushed him away, depending on her mood that day, depending on how strong she was feeling and whether or not he agreed with the decisions she was making. And with every flicker of disappointment that he tried so hard to conceal, with every rueful smile that flashed across his lips in silent acknowledgement of her ambivalence, she stood surer and firmer that he would wait for her. The promise of _one day _was in his eyes every time he looked at her.

Until _one day_ her future self took the sandcastle she had painstakingly constructed and dumped all the oceans in the universe right on top until nothing remained except utter obliteration.

He had broken his promise. Or maybe she had broken hers, every minute of every day in everything she did.

Because perhaps in her quest to build the perfect sandcastle, she had buried _him_ under the weight of all her indecision. No, that wasn't the truth. She had buried _herself_. And he had stood helplessly by, flinching with each shovelful that she heedlessly flung. And when no part of her was left visible, he had simply walked away, leaving her to suffocate underneath the burdens of her command. What else was there left for him to do?

But the worse part of it was that he hadn't walked away empty-handed. He had walked away with Seven of Nine. And now her dream had suddenly transformed into the cruelest of nightmares, and her next steps were no longer dictated by surviving for just another day thousands of light years from home.

She was back on Earth. And she needed to decide. What to do with her career? What to do with her life?

_What to do with her heart?_

Did she continue to bury herself in everything that was unimportant and hope that _Seven_ could give him all that she hadn't been able to? Or did she yank herself out and lay her heart on the altar, hoping that he would understand the gesture, hoping that he still loved her back?

The crux of the matter was simply her inability to make any kind of choice at all.

Was this about letting go?

Or was it about holding on?

The longer she thought about it, the more Kathryn realized that she very much hated both of those options.

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

Careless

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 2--Chakotay

For about the thousandth time, Chakotay wondered why he was doing this. They were finally back in the Alpha Quadrant, they were finally on Earth, they were finally home.

_And he was escorting Seven of Nine to the welcome home party._

For how many years had he dreamed of this moment? A beacon in the distance when the day-to-day drudgery bent his shoulders beneath its endless weight. To him it was a vision, encapsulated in perfection, a long-awaited blessing. He could see it vividly in his mind.

The ballroom at Starfleet Headquarters, alight with twinkling chandeliers, soft music shimmering in the air. Applause from a hundred--a thousand--people, both Starfleet and Maquis, thundering in his ears. But his attention would be captured by only one thing, only one woman. Kathryn, her hand threaded lightly through his arm, her head tilted back to grace him with her enchanting smile. Flawless in a flowing red dress that accentuated far more than her everyday uniform. Her hair long again, twisted up just in the front with the bulk cascading freely down her back, the dancing strands teasing him with the softest of touches as they walked slowly and quietly into the room, savoring the moment and savoring, after far too long and far too much, each other.

Their moment of conquest, their moment of victory.

So why was he walking into the room alone?

He supposed that part of him should have been grateful that Seven had been caught up in a last-minute project with the Doctor and was meeting him there later. His disillusionment would have absolute if he had been forced to walk in with _Seven _on his arm. There was something to be said about clinging to the last fragments of a dream gone bad.

And he wondered to himself how Kathryn would have taken him entering _their_ party with another woman in his arms. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her more than he already had.

She knew. Of course, she knew. The Admiral had told her, probably hoping to shock her into agreeing to her plans. The last hours and days aboard Voyager had been a façade. Her voice, her smile, her friendship had been merely a by-product of their command functions, increased in demand by the myriad protocols and inane details of the ship arriving back in the Alpha Quadrant. In some ways, she acted as she always had, but there was less laughter, fewer true emotions, and no moments of the real Kathryn. Her blue eyes were like chips of ice in a face frozen by the disappointment of all the years. He could barely look at her. Yes, she knew.

And neither of them spoke about it.

He made his entrance into the ballroom as unobtrusive as possible, although he expected no fanfare on his own. The glory of the evening rested in the hands of the intrepid Captain of Voyager. He was merely an appendage to her greatness and would be newsworthy only in her presence as the renegade Maquis Captain turned loyal Starfleet First Officer. He grimaced and realized in his mind that perhaps the only person who had never entertained that mental picture of him was Kathryn Janeway. She saw him just as Chakotay, and that was all he ever wanted to be to her.

No heads turned his way as he meandered through the mingling crowd strewn across the room. He half-wondered if anyone would even recognize him in the formal tuxedo he had chosen for the evening. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn one—or even if he ever had. Most formal functions he had attended in his life were Starfleet-mandated and required only his dress uniform. As he reached the middle of the room, his attention was caught by a wave from Tom and B'Elanna. He changed course and headed in their direction, taking in the radiant smile on his old friend's face and the pride that glimmered in Tom's otherwise mischievous eyes.

"Hey, old man," B'Elanna said, pulling him into a hug. The entire crew had seen each other briefly earlier in the day but there had been no time or circumstance for casualness or even hellos as Voyager's Captain had been relieved of her command, and Voyager had been placed back into the eagerly waiting hands of Starfleet Command. Kathryn had held her head high and graciously accepted her dismissal as well as her promotion to admiral with the same measure of quiet dignity. Chakotay had never been more proud of her because he alone probably knew the full extent of the destruction of her heart. In the essence of a day, she had gained the Alpha Quadrant but had lost everything else that had become so dear to her, and he wondered how she would possibly pick up the pieces.

"Nice to see you, too, B'Elanna," he replied, reaching out to embrace her husband as well. "I must say I've never seen the two of you so happy." Tom looked away with a smirk, shifting his feet.

"Personally, I've never seen the two of us look so exhausted," Tom remarked with a grin, nudging B'Elanna with his elbow. She playfully slapped his arm away and rolled her eyes. "Those two a.m. feedings are killer. Along with the 4 a.m. ones and the 6 a.m..."

"You'd think _he_ was taking an active part in it, the way he goes on," B'Elanna said disparagingly, but her eyes were teasing. "Whenever the baby cries, he wakes me up and then rolls over and goes back to sleep."

"That's not true!" Tom protested through his laughter. B'Elanna's eyebrows shot up in a gesture worthy of Tuvok. "Okay, it's partly true, but…" Chakotay slapped him on the back, grinning.

"You'd better quit while you're ahead, Tom," he advised. "Upsetting a sleep-deprived Klingon could be hazardous to your health."

"You'd better listen to him, Thomas Eugene Paris," his wife taunted. "He has much more sense than you do."

"Yeah, sense enough not to get involved with-" Tom muttered but was interrupted with a well-timed question from Chakotay.

"So where is the little night owl? I see her grandparents are here."

"Tom's sister offered to forgo the festivities and watch her," B'Elanna responded. "She has three children of her own so we figured she would be well-qualified." She winked in Tom's direction. "Daddy over there is slightly over-protective." Tom's mouth opened to retort, but any reply he might have made was swallowed up by a familiar voice from behind them.

"There you are, Commander. We were wondering when you were going to show up." The group turned to greet the familiar face of Kathryn Janeway. Her lips were set in a brilliant smile, and Chakotay couldn't remember the last time he had seen her looking so beautiful. He didn't even stop to think before walking over and pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Kathryn," he murmured in her ear. "You look incredible." When they disentangled themselves, she was blushing slightly and her hand had strayed to her hair, professing to smooth the wavy strands that flowed in freefall down her back. Chakotay caught his breath.

She was wearing a red dress.

"Chakotay, I'd like you to meet my mother," she said almost shyly, gesturing to a petite woman standing next to her. "Mom, this is Commander Chakotay, my former First Officer on Voyager, one of the finest officers I've ever worked with. Chakotay, my mother, Gretchen Janeway." Chakotay reached out to shake hands with Gretchen, but instead she pulled his face down and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you for taking care of my Katie," she said warmly, with a smile that mirrored her daughter's. "I know she's difficult sometimes."

"Mom…" came Kathryn's half-hearted protest. Then she laughed out loud. "Just so you know, I'm difficult at _all_ times. Chakotay should know. He had to put up with me for seven straight years, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. And quite often coffee-deprived." Then entire group winced simultaneously then burst into genuine laughter. Gretchen's face glowed, and Chakotay knew she was touched by the obvious love and respect that the crew had for her daughter.

"It wasn't all bad," Chakotay finally defended his captain, putting a conciliatory arm around Kathryn's shoulders. He felt her shiver at the contact against her bare skin and his stomach begin to churn. "In fact, if truth be told, in many ways it was the best seven years of my life." He felt his voice constrict with the last words and cursed himself for becoming emotional in what should have been a joyous and light-hearted occasion. But there were murmurs of assent all around and suddenly they were talking, really talking, about their experiences in the Delta Quadrant and how they had been changed by them. Within moments, Admiral Paris and his wife had joined them followed by Harry Kim and his parents. Although their discussion had a serious edge, there was definite and frequent laughter, and Chakotay felt like his heart was on fire.

And then Kathryn reciprocated his earlier gesture by slipping her arm around his waist and resting her hand in the small of his back. He felt his breath leave him as all the sounds in the room faded into a slow murmuring in the background. People, conversations, words became indistinct until all he could feel was her hand against him, her fingers softly stroking small circles over his spine that nearly brought him to his knees. He could hear only his breath which was coming slowly, each inhale and exhale miles apart; his heart beat in rhythm, his blood even pausing in its course as his entire being came to a concentrated near-standstill. He turned his head to look at Kathryn, and she met him with her familiar half-smile. Her eyes were luminous. Magnetic. He felt himself unable to turn away from her gaze.

"Chakotay. I have been looking for you." He felt a presence at his side and a swift brush of lips across his own.

Time froze. Conversation slowly petered away into silence as all eyes turned to the tall blonde woman who had come up behind him. He felt Kathryn's hand turn into stone, abruptly ceasing its gentle ministrations and dropping with an almost audible thud to her side. He opened his mouth to speak, almost wanting to protest, but any coherent speech was lodged firmly in his throat.

"Seven." It was Kathryn's voice and suddenly time once more regained its equilibrium, conversation coming back into focus, the sights and sounds of the room almost overwhelming him in their sudden intensity.

"Captain Janeway. Or should I say Admiral." And then the melee began once again, with introductions being made and stories being started or continued. But Chakotay no longer took any active part. He stood next to Seven of Nine, holding her hand in his, smiling in all the right places. But Kathryn was now standing at the other side of the group. He didn't remember her even moving away from him.

But he would never forget the look in her eyes.

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

Ambivalence

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 2--Kathryn

Kathryn Janeway stepped towards Admiral Owen Paris who stood in the front of the ballroom at Starfleet Headquarters, holding a microphone in his hands. Immediately, a roaring sound exploded in her ears as hundreds of pairs of hands beat in unison, paying homage to her as the former Captain of Voyager. All around her she saw beaming faces, admiring glances, and even the occasional tear or two from a member of her crew. She should have been exultant, basking in the warmth flowing from this incredible roomful of people. But all she felt was a consuming emptiness—and a desire to turn around and run back through the doors. There was no glory, no desire to be a hero in her, and she only wanted for the commotion to be over, for the praise to dwindle into oblivion.

She had only been doing her job. And the cost that it had exacted from her life was one that she was only finally beginning to estimate.

"And for our final dance of the evening, the honor goes to the newly minted Admiral Kathryn Janeway and her former First Officer, Commander Chakotay," Owen announced, grinning broadly and gesturing towards the middle of the floor that had been cleared of tables earlier in the night.

Kathryn wanted to scream. She'd managed to avoid Chakotay ever since the disastrous meeting with Seven. No, she corrected herself. The encounter itself hadn't been disastrous.

_She_ had been the disaster. What had she been thinking, cozying up to Chakotay like that? Especially after what her future self had told her. But the future had been changed. He'd walked in _alone._ And she'd seen the look in his eyes when he saw her, felt his fierce emotion when he had hugged her tightly to him.

She'd assumed that things were over between him and Seven. Wrong again.

Seven long, treacherous years marooned in the Delta Quadrant should have taught her that making assumptions wasn't a safe thing to do. It should have taught her that her needs would never come first, not while she was still a Starfleet captain. Yet she'd been home for a week and already her vigilance had begun to deteriorate.

Tonight she'd opened herself up to him for the first time since their stay on New Earth. Maybe it was only an arm around his waist, a hand on his back. But she'd wanted him to know that their long exile was over—in more ways than one.

She saw him coming towards her through the crowd, his large frame silhouetted by a single spotlight that followed his progress. Looking up, she saw herself likewise illuminated. He strode with his usual muscled grace and confidence, and she felt her chest tighten, the knots in her stomach redouble. His bottomless dark eyes penetrated hers even from halfway across the room.

_How would she ever make it through this dance?_

He reached the spot where she stood, rooted to the gleaming floor yet somehow also holding her toe to the line, like a runner waiting for the starting signal. He bowed slightly to her and respectfully held out his hand.

"May I?" he murmured, his voice formal yet warm. He was smiling but there were no dimples involved, and his eyes held profound consternation. She grasped his hand, her body moving of its own accord. His arms gently encircled her, his hand brushing her bare shoulder before settling in the small of her back. She shivered involuntarily, and when she looked up, his face was very close to hers. She felt herself catch her breath, saw him swallow hard. And then the music began.

The dance felt foreign to her and yet somehow entirely natural at the same time. Part of her was stiff, formal in the way she touched him, the way her body moved almost unwillingly in tandem with his. And the other part of her melted into him as if they were one complete being, as if they had never been apart.

It was the same dance they had danced for seven years in the Delta Quadrant, and she felt the familiar impulse to run away and to pull him even closer. Why did it always have to be like this? Why couldn't she just make up her mind? And then she remembered that the decision was no longer hers to make. _He_ had settled the matter when he had turned to Seven of Nine instead of her. She felt her body go rigid, her feet leaden against the floor. Chakotay loosened their embrace to look at her.

"Kathryn?" he asked softly.

She met his eyes for a brief moment, squeezing out a smile.

"Sorry," she said lightly. "I think I pulled something in my back. It's been a while since I did any formal dancing."

"Would you like to sit down?" he asked. His tone was solicitous, but his eyes interrogated hers. She shook her head, smiling ruefully.

"Now, Commander, how would it look if the former Captain of Voyager navigated her ship through hell and high water in the Delta Quadrant and then was incapacitated due to her advancing age during Voyager's welcome home party?" Kathryn was relieved that the rebuttal came out almost naturally. Chakotay even cracked a slight smile.

"Hmmmm. Might tarnish your reputation," he replied. "It might cause them to rethink your promotion to the Admiralty."

"Glad we understand each other," she said with a brusque nod. "Now let's finish this dance." He grinned at her, but his arms cradled her more intensely against him. She thought she felt him trembling and had to close her eyes against the sudden rush of tears.

And then the song ended. It was several seconds before either of them realized it, so wrapped up were they in their uncertain emotions, in the careful choreography that had defined this final act as captain and first officer. It wasn't until thunderous applause exploded around them that Kathryn realized she was still clutched in his strong arms, that they were still swaying slightly to a beat that could only be the rhythm of their hearts pounding.

She gasped and pushed him away. Chakotay almost stumbled then caught himself, and she saw a flash of anguish cross his handsome face.

"Thank you, Kathryn," he murmured, so softly she could barely distinguish the words.

Then he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. It wasn't just a light brush, a fleeting friend-to-friend gesture, a whisper in the air. It was firm yet tender and lingered for a millisecond longer than it should have. She hoped she was imagining it, but the applause ricocheting off the high ceiling and walls of the ballroom seemed to crescendo. Then Chakotay stepped back, drawing himself into his full height. He offered her his arm to escort her from the dance floor, and she took it, barely even aware of what she was doing. They parted at the edge of the crowd, overwhelmed by embraces and congratulations from their former crew and friends. And Kathryn hoped that any errant tears in her eyes, any wayward trembling of her lips, would be attributed to the emotion of the moment, the culmination of this evening of celebration.

She cried herself to sleep that night, one hand held tightly to the cheek that he had kissed goodbye.

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

Careless

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 3--Chakotay

For about the thousandth time, Chakotay wondered why he was doing this. Why he had accepted Starfleet's offer of the captaincy of Voyager. He loved the ship, loved everything it stood for. But they were home now, and it would never be the same. _Without her_. He looked out across the night-lit skyline of San Francisco showcased by the balcony of his apartment and sighed. He stared morosely into the tepid cup of tea he still cradled in his hand, watching his slight movements cause minute vibrations that disturbed its surface and then stilled again. He heard a sound behind him and knew that Seven had opened the French doors and slipped out to join him. She touched his arm lightly, but when he did not initiate further contact, she moved a little farther down the wrought-iron railing and rested her elbows on its surface, surveying the landscape with him.

"It is a beautiful view," she remarked into the empty air around them. Chakotay glanced at her in surprise; it was highly unlike Seven to indulge in "small talk," even in his presence. In many ways, it was something he liked about her, the way she thought carefully before she spoke and focused on those ideas and concepts that were important to her. But at the same time, it made him feel intensely lonely. He was so used to sharing every little detail with Kathryn, every serious or silly little nuance of everything that happened around them—it pulled them together, that co-experiencing of the world. He shook his head disparagingly once again, angry with himself and already regretting the path his thoughts had taken. He tried so hard not to compare them.

"Mmmmhmmm," he agreed, just a shade too late. "I just wish I could be here more often to experience it."

"You regret accepting command of Voyager?" Seven asked in surprise. Chakotay sighed again, wondering if he would eventually hyperventilate from his discontent.

"No," he lied. "Not really. I just wish I wasn't leaving Earth again so soon."

"You missed it?" Seven said in a puzzled tone. "I was under the impression that you had not lived here for quite a while prior to your arrival in the Delta Quadrant."

"I only lived here while I was in Starfleet Academy. And when I was teaching. But no, Earth hasn't been my home for many years." His voice sounded hostile and remote, even to his own ears, and he winced. Whatever his unhappiness, he would _not_ take it out on Seven. He was dreading tomorrow, dreading boarding Voyager as it embarked on its first official Starfleet mission since returning to the Alpha Quadrant.

Dreading walking on to the bridge to find Kathryn not there.

Before he realized what he was doing, he had slammed his hand furiously on the railing beneath him, once, twice, feeling the old, forgotten anger trickling back into him. He felt himself grow hot then cold.

"Chakotay, are you all right?" Seven's voice now held concern, and she had returned to his side.

"I'm fine," he murmured, wincing as he cradled his hand to his chest.

"You are damaged," Seven said, reaching for him. But he pulled his hand out of her reach.

"I said I'm fine." The words burst forth before he could recall them, and he swore silently. Why was he so out-of-control tonight? Where was his hard-won peace? He rested his elbows on the railing and buried his face in his hands. He realized he was trembling.

"You are angry with me." Seven's voice from behind him, more tentative than he had ever heard.

He felt the anger rush from his body, leaving him almost limp in its sudden absence. He lifted his head and looked beseechingly into her blue eyes.

"No, Sev," he said very softly. "I'm angry with myself." He reached out and lightly touched her cheek and then stepped past her and back into the apartment. Finding himself in the living room, he was once again drawn to the brilliant night sky and stood at the window, holding back the light drapes and simply staring.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He turned to see Seven standing in the balcony doorway.

"I don't know," he said, unable to formulate a more definitive answer.

"You are not happy," Seven observed, and when he saw the look in her eyes, he knew she meant much more than the words she had just spoken.

"No," he sighed. "I'm not."

"Is it our relationship?"

"No, Seven, I-"

"If there is something bothering you about our association, please be candid."

"I don't want to hurt you, Seven."

"My feelings are irrelevant," Seven responded flatly.

"No, Seven, they're not," Chakotay said, crossing the room swiftly and taking her hands in his. "You're a human being, an individual. Your feelings are very relevant. And very real."

"Then you wish to resume our former relationship. As friends," Seven stated bluntly. Chakotay opened his mouth, trying to dredge up a protest or at least a partial disclaimer but realized that any dissembling on his part would only demean the incredible woman that Seven had become. So he nodded slowly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I think that you-"

"Suffice it to say, " Seven interrupted, "that we hold each other in equal esteem. If we did not find one another's qualities admirable, we would not have explored this side of our relationship." Once again, Chakotay found himself simply staring at her with an open mouth. Finally he nodded yet again, and the slightest of smiles brushed across Seven's lips.

"Although I have enjoyed the time we have spent together, the conclusion of our relationship does allow me to partake of an opportunity I have been offered." For the first time she looked away, a semblance of uncharacteristic guilt flashing across her face.

"Seven," Chakotay protested. "I would have supported you in whatever you wanted to do. I thought you knew that." Seven held up a hand to halt his eruption in a gesture so reminiscent of Kathryn that for a minute he could see the auburn hair and crooked smile of the captain stopping him in mid-sentence and knowing darn well what she was doing.

"I never doubted your intentions, Chakotay." Seven's voice was softer. "However, I have been offered the opportunity to study on Vulcan. That prospect holds much appeal to me. But I considered rejecting the position as it would make it difficult to see you when Voyager is docked on Earth."

"Why didn't you tell me, Seven?" Chakotay tried to keep the hurt from entering his voice. And then wondered why he was prolonging the point. This made things so much easier. They could leave one another with no regrets.

But somewhere deep inside of him, he didn't want it to be easy, at least not for him. He didn't deserve it. Somewhere someone had to pay the penance for his carelessness, and he would never willingly pass it off on anyone else.

"I concluded that informing you of my dilemma would only increase your state of agitation. You have been disturbed since Voyager returned to Earth." And that was Seven for you. He felt his throat unexpectedly swell with emotion.

"Sev…" Chakotay's voice trailed off uncertainly. But Seven saw the look in his eyes and walked quickly into his embrace. Ironically, it was probably the warmest hug they had shared. Seven hadn't yet become accustomed to embracing and often felt almost stiff and unyielding in his arms, although she attempted to relax. But this time her arms had gone around him rather strongly, and she had leaned into his chest just slightly. When they separated, she turned quickly away and strode towards the door without a word.

"Call her, Commander." It was Seven's voice from behind him, but when he whirled around, she had already disappeared, and he wondered when exactly Seven had become so human.

Then Chakotay sat down heavily on the couch and let himself cry for the first time in a very, very long time.

To be continued...


	6. Chapter 6

Ambivalence

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 3--Kathryn

Kathryn Janeway glanced up from the PADD she was scrutinizing, sighed, and tucked yet another willful strand of hair behind her ear. She had cut it short again immediately following Voyager's welcome home party. There was, after all, only one reason she had allowed the Doctor to stimulate her hair growth once Voyager had gotten back home_. _But that motivation had become a moot point so she had chopped it off once more. And now she was suddenly regretting that impulse. At least when it was long, she could pin it up into a respectable bun that didn't allow the unruly tendrils to continually insinuate themselves into every slight movement of her head.

She groaned, aggravated with herself. Here she was, a Starfleet Admiral, assigned to help with the ongoing negotiations between the Romulans and the Federation, privy to information a million prying eyes would give their eyeteeth to peruse, and she, the so-called "intrepid Captain Janeway of the Starship Voyager," was worrying about her hair.

Perhaps she needed a vacation.

Kathryn sighed again then dragged herself out of the chair where she had been sitting for the better part of the day. She ordered a cup of coffee from the replicator nestled into the wall beside the old-fashioned bookshelf she had installed in her office at Headquarters. She sipped from the steaming mug as she idly ran her fingertips along the row of books on the third shelf. Most of them were volumes she had replicated while in the Delta Quadrant, her balm of Gilead for those rare moments when all was quiet out in the vast expanses of space. For those rare moments that something pleasurable was actually able to occupy her time.

_Who was she kidding?_ Those books had been a solace, an escape. A distraction from the echoes of her loneliness, the strains of which only resounded in her head when she wasn't fully ensconced in the day-to-day drama of life on Voyager. Those volumes were a poor substitute for the company she truly had wanted to keep.

"Paris to Janeway." Her commbadge chirped, startling her. Hot coffee sloshed across her wrist, causing her to wince. She wiped her hand swiftly on the front of her pants, attempting to shake off the burn. Part of her was grateful for the momentary reprieve from answering the call, as her mind had been firmly entrenched in the past. She could almost hear herself having unwittingly responded "Yes, Lieutenant" to Tom's father.

"Janeway here." She tried to make her voice sound rushed, preoccupied. Let him think the delay had been caused by her being entirely engrossed in her work.

"Could you come to my office please?" Admiral Paris requested. "I have something I need to discuss with you."

"On my way." Kathryn set her rapidly cooling mug of coffee down on her desk and headed for Owen's office, glancing down at the faint red mark slashed across her wrist. She made a mental note to "borrow" a dermal regenerator sometime that day.

"Kathryn," Owen said jovially when she strode into his office a moment later. "Have a seat." He was grinning broadly, and she almost took a hesitant step backwards. Owen Paris, while having softened considerably over the years, was still a formal and imposing figure even in his most casual of moments. To see him grinning—just like Tom, she thought wryly—was disconcerting to say the least.

"Owen," she answered cautiously, slipping into the chair across from his desk. "Is something the matter?" She regretted the words the instant they popped out of her mouth. He looked at her strangely and shook his head.

"I just received the latest holos of Miral from Tom and B'Elanna. Can you believe she's already crawling? Tom said she's pulling herself up on all the furniture. He thinks she'll be walking before she's nine months old," Owen said proudly. "She's starting to say Mama and Dada. Tom is trying to teach her Papa for me. She's definitely on the command track. Must take after her strong-willed parents."

Kathryn tipped her head slightly and smiled back. "I'm sure there's a little bit of her grandfather in there," she said, and Owen chuckled in acknowledgement.

"Now getting down to business, Kathryn, I just received a subspace message from Voyager. They report that all looks quiet along the Romulan border so perhaps the insurgence we were expecting was a bit premature." Owen tapped a few buttons in his computer console then slid the device around so Kathryn could read it.

"However," he paused, his fingers busily pulling up yet another schematic, "Captain Chakotay is under the impression that…" Owen continued talking, but Kathryn had lost the thread of conversation at the mention of Chakotay's name. She was eternally grateful that the new captain of Voyager reported directly to Owen, rather than to her. It minimized any contact she might have with him. It cut down on the flush of embarrassment that still heated her body whenever she remembered their encounter in the ballroom. Whenever she remembered _her behavior_.

There were reasons why she had always been hesitant to express her emotions freely. And he had reminded her of each and every one of them.

Kathryn forced herself back to what Owen was saying, eventually losing herself in the ebb and flow of strategy and tactics. Part of her loved her job, loved the endless opportunities of her position. Loved the endless work that kept her there far after dark on most nights. And the other part of her hated every moment she spent sitting in her spacious office, hunched over yet another deadly dull report, hated the way she rarely slept and subsisted on coffee even more solely than she ever had on Voyager. At least on Voyager, Chakotay had occasionally insisted on her ingestion of a solid meal. Here on Earth, in Starfleet Headquarters, in her quiet apartment, she probably could have starved to death, and no one would have noticed. Well, except for her mother, who plied her with food every chance that arose, her worried eyes following Kathryn around the house. Kathryn knew she had lost weight, knew she was probably too thin. But she had other issues on her plate to worry about.

_Old habits die hard_, she thought wryly.

"Kathryn?" She sprang back into the present discussion at Owen's question, wondering what he had just said. He had closed the console a few moments earlier and had been enthusiastically detailing a new breakthrough in communications research that Reginald Barclay had implemented.

"Yes?"

"I was just saying that with this new development, we are thinking about devoting Voyager to some deep space missions, possibly even charting the edge of the Delta Quadrant. We wanted to know if you would like your old captaincy back."

"You—what?" Kathryn said in disbelief. Owen shook his head at her, grimacing slightly.

"I knew you weren't paying to attention to what I was saying. Do I have to pull rank just to get you to look at pictures of my granddaughter?" His voice was gruff, but his eyes twinkled with just a hint of mischief. Tom again. It was nice to work with his father now that she had spent seven years with the son. Although neither of them would ever admit it, they were more alike than they were different.

"I'm sorry. My mind was wandering," Kathryn admitted. "I'm a little tired. I haven't been sleeping well."

"Mmmmhmmm," Owen said noncommittally. He handed her a portable holoemitter, and she smiled at her first glimpse of Miral's chubby face and faint Klingon forehead ridges. The child managed to look thoroughly lovable yet fierce at the same time as she clutched a tattered teddy bear in a death grip to her chest. The next two images appeared, also sporting the toy.

"That bear is Miral's security blanket. She thinks she can do anything when she's holding that bear," Owen laughed.

"I used to feel that way about Voyager." The words were out before Kathryn could apply the reins, and Owen glanced at her sharply. "I felt like _I_ could do anything, like _we_ could do anything, get through anything, together. As a family."

"When was the last time you spoke with any of your crew?" Owen's voice was gentle yet probing.

Kathryn hesitated. "It's been a while," she finally murmured.

"Tom mentioned they haven't heard from you in months." Owen's words were blunt. "They're worried about you. And so, quite frankly, am I."

"I'm fine, Owen." It was the standard Kathryn Janeway response, but Owen leveled her with his own personal version of the death glare.

"Katie," he said quietly. "You practically sleep at your desk. You have no social life. And the replicator in your office has produced nothing but coffee for the last two months. I know. I checked the records."

"Owen," she protested, but her words were half-hearted.

"What's going on?" His voice was pleading with her, a tone quite unlike any she had ever heard from her former mentor. "Why are you shutting everyone out? Why are you shutting _them_ out?"

Time stopped for Kathryn, so abruptly that she imagined she could still hear the insistent ticking of seconds that desperately tried to pass. Once again, she felt the emotional breathlessness that had nearly felled her when Voyager had arrived home. _Not now_, she pleaded with herself. _It's not time to stop running yet. There's still so far to go._

"Kathryn?" Owen's voice was gentle, and he had reached out to touch her hand. She realized there were tears in her eyes, realized that maybe she should blink them away, that maybe she should excuse herself, but there was Miral staring fiercely at her from the holoemitter still cradled in her hands. Miral, who refused to give up what was so dear to her.

_The way Kathryn had_.

"I'm sorry, Owen," she choked out. Then she burst into tears.

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

Careless

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 4--Chakotay

For about the thousandth time, Chakotay wondered why he was doing this. He stood uncertainly on the front porch steps of the Janeway house in Indiana, clutching his jacket tighter as the brisk wind danced around him and nervously shifting from foot to foot. His hand had strayed from his side to the old-fashioned door knocker at least a dozen times but had never completed the journey. He wanted to kick himself. When had he become such a coward?

Probably at the same moment he had become such a jerk. It figured. Once you turned from who you really were, everything else in you tended to crumble.

A sudden gust of wind tore across the yard and nearly pinned him to the door frame, causing him to knock without meaning to. He caught his balance, startled, and had barely managed to compose his features when the door swung open, revealing a petite older woman who reminded him instantly of Kathryn. The same sparkling blue eyes, the same half-defiant set to her chin, the same crooked smile that suffused her entire face.

"Mrs. Janeway?" he said tentatively. "We met at Voyager's welcome home party. I'm-" His words were cut short as she reached forward and pulled him into a fierce and unexpected hug. Before he even realized it, he was already in the front hall, and Gretchen Janeway had his coat in her hand, hanging it from an antique coat hanger that was nestled into a corner.

"Of course I remember you, Captain," she said warmly as she led him down a short hallway into the kitchen.

"Look, Mrs. Janeway—"

"Please call me Gretchen, " she interrupted firmly.

"Yes, of course, thank you, Gretchen. I…I apologize for just stopping by without calling first. I-" She stopped him with a light hand on his chest, and at the familiarity of the gesture, he felt his stomach drop through to his boots.

"You are always welcome in this house, Captain. You're family to me, and family never needs to call."

"I—thank you. That means more to me than I can express," he managed, trying to keep his voice strong. "And please, call me Chakotay."

"I know what you did for Katie out there in the Delta Quadrant, Chakotay." Gretchen's voice was quiet. "You were her saving grace." He winced and made a conscious effort not to drop his gaze.

"And she was mine," he said softly. He felt sudden hot tears rushing to his eyes and tried to blink them away. But he knew that Gretchen had seen him falter.

"Sit down, Chakotay," she said, motioning towards the kitchen table. "We need to talk about this." So he sat, and her husky voice reminded him so much of Kathryn's that he would hardly have been surprised if her next words had been, "We need to define some parameters. About us." The thought made him almost grin and almost throw up at the same time.

"Here. Have a caramel brownie. They're Katie's favorite," Gretchen said, pushing a small plate in his direction.

"I—" he began to demur but then obediently took one as he realized that her words had been an order, not an offer. Gretchen Janeway might not have been Starfleet, but she had a definite command presence.

Chakotay chewed the brownie slowly, his eyes transfixed by the complex swirls and grooves of the natural wood table. He knew Gretchen was focused on him; he knew too that, just like her daughter, she was instinctive enough, and patient enough, to let him speak in his own time. Finally, when he had run out of excuses, he met her calm gaze.

"I've messed everything up, Gretchen. I've destroyed any chance that Kathryn and I could find happiness together," he said flatly. She studied him for a long moment then nodded thoughtfully.

"She is upset." Her words were careful, and, in Chakotay's mind, a hyperbolic understatement. He knew Kathryn well enough to know that she would have transcended the category of "upset" in the first millisecond that she saw Seven walk up to him at the party.

"I broke my promise," he said.

"What promise was that, Chakotay?"

"The promise I made to wait for her." He could barely squeeze the words out through the lump in his throat.

"Chakotay," Gretchen said, her eyes piercing, "I can't imagine Katie asking you to make a promise like that, especially when no one knew how long you would be stranded out in the Delta Quadrant."

He turned his head, frustration mutilating his normally placid features.

"It wasn't a promise she asked me to make, Gretchen," he spat angrily. "It was one I made to myself."

"Chakotay-"

"How can I trust myself after that?" Gretchen's hands were on his, squeezing gently.

"Was Seven of Nine the only woman you were romantically involved with on Voyager?" Her voice was quiet but the echoes of its implications thundered in Chakotay's ears.

"No," he whispered finally. "She wasn't. I had a couple of other…flings. I wouldn't really call them relationships."

"Why not?"

"Because my heart has belonged to Kathryn Janeway since I destroyed my ship to save hers!" The words were half-yelled, and Chakotay sprang up from his chair and began pacing the length of the kitchen.

"And what about Kathryn?"

Chakotay stared at Gretchen blankly.

"Did she have any 'flings' during your years on Voyager?" Her tone was penetrating, and Chakotay looked down.

"Yes," he answered in barely a whisper.

"And?"

"They were about as meaningful as mine. It was just about getting through another lonely day in the Delta Quadrant."

"And therein lies the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"I know my daughter, Chakotay. I've seen the way she handles the challenges in her life, especially if she feels she's to blame. And stranding Voyager seventy thousand light years from home rates number one on her list."

"Yes, but-"

"No, listen to me, Chakotay," Gretchen said firmly. "Did she tell you how she felt about you? Ever?"

"Well, not in so many words, but-"

"Did she ever once admit that she loved you?" Chakotay sat back down at the kitchen table, gripping the edge in frustration.

"Aloud, no. But she didn't need to, Gretchen. It was in everything about her."

"So she never told you."

Chakotay sighed. "No."

"And did you ever tell her about your feelings?"

His shoulders slumped. "Yes, once. When we were stuck on a planet together."

"New Earth," Gretchen said softly, and Chakotay's eyebrows shot upwards.

"She told you about it?" he said disbelievingly.

"Well, not in so many words, but…Her entire being softens when she recalls that time with you. It's like I'm suddenly seeing a different person. The Katie that might have been." Gretchen's words caused his chest to ache. "But she's fought all of her life to be someone else."

Chakotay nodded in mute understanding. He had seen the way Kathryn tried to balance who she was with who she thought she had to be, eventually being swallowed up in the all-consuming persona of Captain Janeway.

"Chakotay, if you don't mind telling me, what did she say when you told her how you felt?" Gretchen was leaning towards him now, her eyes intent on his face, capturing every nuance of his expressions.

Chakotay ducked his head for a minute then came up with a rueful smile. "Well, the first thing she said was, 'We need to define some parameters. About us.' And then-" Gretchen buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking slightly. Chakotay tentatively reached out a hand and touched her shoulder, perplexed by her reaction.

And then Gretchen lifted her face, and he saw that she was _laughing_. Despite himself, he started to laugh with her.

"Only my daughter would say that." She shook her head disparagingly, and Chakotay grinned. "I probably don't want to know, but what happened after that?" The smile slid from Chakotay's face, and he clasped his hands on the table in front of him, trying to channel the raging emotions into something he could express.

"I told her…" He struggled to adequately convey all that the ancient legend had meant to him. Then he knew. "I told her she had brought me the peace I could never find in my life." He choked on the last words and felt hot tears start to slip down his cheeks. "And then I walked away from her."

"If things had turned out differently…if Voyager had remained in the Delta Quadrant…what do you think would have happened between you and Seven?" Gretchen asked carefully.

Chakotay sighed. "I don't know. Probably not much. It was already wearing on me after the first few dates. I don't think I could have gone on much longer."

"It was merely chance that you and Seven happened to be together when Voyager finally arrived home," she mused. Chakotay nodded, his shoulders slumped.

"Bad timing," Gretchen remarked.

"Yes," he agreed in a whisper.

"Why are you here, Chakotay?" her words were firm yet kind, and the abrupt question jarred him.

"I wasn't sure where to find her. Starfleet Headquarters told me she had taken a leave. I thought she might be here with you." His eyes were pleading, but Gretchen shook her head.

"To be truthful, I didn't even know she was on leave," Gretchen murmured, worry flickering in the depths of her blue eyes.

"I haven't spoken to her since the night of the homecoming celebration. I don't know what happened that night. I don't know why she…"

"Maybe she finally realized that it was okay to love you and to show it. That you were home, and she could stop punishing herself," Gretchen said. "I think when she saw that you were alone at the party, she thought that maybe things were over between you and Seven. But then…" He turned his head away sharply but couldn't dispel the mental image of Seven walking up to them. Of the biting pain in Kathryn's eyes.

"I never meant to hurt her."

"I know."

Chakotay sat silently for a moment, immersed in his own tortured thoughts.

"What is it?" Gretchen asked softly.

"She gave me her heart, and I—I…" He stopped, unable to even verbalize the rest of the sentence. Gretchen reached out and took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.

"It's not about always being right the first time. It's about going back and fixing your mistakes." She looked steadily at him as he struggled with his emotions and finally drew a deep, shaky breath.

"I'll give you her address. She has an apartment in San Francisco near Starfleet Headquarters. I was hoping she'd buy a house and settle down, but…"

"Do you think she'll want to see me?" he whispered, the question like a stab in the heart camouflaged by the hope of butterfly wings.

"Chakotay?"

"Yes, Gretchen?"

"I hope you don't take offense to this, but what are you still doing here talking to me?" Her eyes were dancing, and a familiar half-grin was easing its way across her face. Caught by her impeccable logic, Chakotay had to laugh—and stop stalling. He pulled his large frame from the kitchen chair where he had been sitting.

"May I be excused, ma'am?" he asked, his dimples flashing.

"Dismissed," Gretchen said, in true Janeway fashion.

To be continued…


	8. Chapter 8

Ambivalence

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 4--Kathryn

Kathryn Janeway felt more alone than she ever had in her life. Almost a week had passed since Owen had strongly _suggested_ that she employ some of her entitled leave time. And so she had, not knowing what else to try. She felt defeated, recognizing that something significant had broken inside of her, understanding after far too long that the way she had been doing things couldn't continue to be the way she did things. She knew there was more than one piece of her life that she had thrown to the wayside. She realized that she had far more to give than what she offered. And she knew that she was scared.

But she still didn't know what to do.

She knew that she needed to contact her crew. _All of them_. But she was also certain that Chakotayneeded to be the first. He had been her best friend for nearly seven years—and then she had summarily shut him out. For something that was admittedly and categorically her own fault. She needed to talk to him. Even if his friendship was all she could ever have.

But how? And when?

_And what would she say?_

The weight of all her indecision was nearly crushing her. Grasped by a wave of almost suffocating restlessness, Kathryn catapulted herself from the living room couch where she had been lounging, nursing a mug of coffee long past its prime. She impatiently tossed the cup into the replicator for recycling and ordered a fresh one.

Cradling the steaming cup in her hands, she wandered, irresolute, over to the apartment's one panoramic window, gazing unseeingly into the gray mist that was San Francisco in the rain. In front of her loomed the stoic façade of Starfleet Headquarters, overwhelming the multitude of less imposing buildings surrounding its property on either side. If she squinted at an angle, she could just make out the floor-to-ceiling windows of her office on the ninth floor. The whole of the building looked dreary, a pompous personality in drab, everyday clothing.

Kathryn turned away from the view, ordering the window screen darkened to opacity. A sharp chime sounded from behind her, and she realized she had an incoming communication on the console on her desk. She scrutinized the identification signal on the monitor. Her mother.

She sighed without meaning to and touched the transmission button. Her mother's inquisitive blue eyes and ready smile filled the screen instantly.

"Hi, Mom. How are you?" she inquired, settling into her desk chair.

"I had a visitor today," her mother said bluntly, staring at her daughter with her characteristic intensity.

"A visitor?" Kathryn repeated, stalling for time, wondering if she was supposed to have an inkling of who her mother was talking about.

"Yes. An old friend," she continued. "Of yours." Her mother's piercing gaze intensified until Kathryn began to shift uncomfortably in her chair, feeling for all the world like she was in the hot seat at a court martial.

"Mom," she began, trying to curb the impatience that was teetering on the edge of her lips. "Who-"

"Your first officer."

"Chakotay?" Kathryn blurted, dropping her coffee cup to the desk with a resounding thud. "He came to see _you_?"

"Actually, he was trying to locate a certain hard-to-find former captain of his who took a leave of absence from Starfleet without telling her mother." The tone was light but the words were not, and Kathryn grimaced before she could catch herself.

"I'm sorry, Mom," she said softly, hoping to allay any distress on her mother's part. "It's only been a few days. I was planning on calling you this weekend to talk about it. I… just needed a break. You know I jumped right back into Starfleet the day we got home. I thought that would make everything easier, and for a while, it did." Her voice was almost a whisper. "But I was only running. Running and trying to forget everything that ever happened on Voyager so I wouldn't miss it, wouldn't miss _them_, like I do." She cleared her throat and brushed half-heartedly at her eyes. "But I guess you can only run for so long until your heart catches up to you. One day after a briefing with Owen Paris, he showed me the latest pictures of Miral, and I…I started to cry." Her mother's eyebrows shot up, and Kathryn grinned self-consciously. "We talked for a while, and then he suggested I take a leave of absence to deal with…with everything. I should have told you right away. I'm sorry that you had to find out through someone else."

"Katie," her mother said firmly, "I think you made the right decision. You can't run away forever. You always seemed to think you could. Somewhere along the line you have to stand still, and the further you've run, the further you have to go back."

Kathryn simply stared at her mother for a long moment then nodded. "You're right," she whispered. "But I'm afraid I may have run too far to ever go back. At least for some things." Her breath caught in her throat.

"For some people." Her mother finished her unspoken words. "Namely Chakotay."

"Yes," Kathryn said softly. "Chakotay." She wearily dropped her gaze, tracing her finger along the rim of her coffee cup. "Mom, I don't know what I would have done without him out there. I would have lost so much more of myself than I already had. He was the only person on Voyager who really knew _Kathryn_."

"And just how much of Kathryn did you let him see?" her mother asked gently.

Kathryn sighed. "As much as I could." Her mother held her gaze steadily until Kathryn relented. "Not much. Only as much as I could give him without surrendering to my feelings."

"And so you thought that doing nothing all those years was going to make things all right between the two of you?" Kathryn winced.

"No," she admitted. "I thought that it would make things all right with me. And I did worse than doing nothing. I used him. I pulled him close enough to be my best friend but pushed him away every time we had a disagreement, every time he even questioned my decisions. He let me know in every thing that he did that he would still be there. But I never let him touch that solid ground with me. I never made my relationship with him unconditional. My love, maybe, but that wasn't what I ever showed him."

She paused a moment, taking a deep breath.

"You know, I'm surprised that he didn't walk away from me years ago."

"So am I." There was no accusation in her mother's voice, but the stark honesty of the words was like a slap in the face.

"Which makes me think," her mother continued, "that you weren't as good at hiding your feelings from him as you thought you were." Kathryn caught her breath at the sudden stirrings of hope.

"Does he know?" she asked suddenly, urgently. "Does he know how I feel?"

"Katie," her mother demurred, "I'm not the one you should be talking to about this."

"Are you dismissing me?" Kathryn asked, arching an eyebrow in a gesture long ago perfected from years of observing Tuvok.

Her mother held up a hand and began ticking things off her fingers. "He's not with Seven any longer. He came all the way to my house when he couldn't locate you in San Francisco. And he's hurting, Katie. Just as much as you are."

Kathryn swallowed hard, fighting to speak through the ache that had suddenly filled her throat.

"I love him, Mom," she whispered.

There was silence on the other end of the commline for a moment. Then her mother finally spoke.

"Kathryn," her mother said with an unfathomable expression that made Kathryn hold her breath in uneasy anticipation. "Did you _really_ tell him that you needed to _define parameters_?"

Kathryn's mouth fell open, and she stared mutely at her mother for several seconds in a very un-Admiral-like state of utter bewilderment. And then, all at once, she started to laugh, and it was cleansing, like a fountain of pure water flowing.

"Yes," she said, a smile curving her lips, "I believe I did."

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

Careless

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Chapter 5--Chakotay

For about the thousandth time, Chakotay wondered why he was doing this. It would have been simpler to write a letter, send a dozen roses, or perhaps even infiltrate the Borg wielding nothing more than one of Neelix's leola root casseroles. And it would have been infinitely less scary. He stood unmoving, _unbreathing_, in front of her apartment door.

And then all at once refusing to become hostage to his fears yet again, he tapped the door chime and held his breath. The door to Kathryn's apartment slid open with malevolent speed, and he almost laughed at himself for having been nervous.

_He should have been terrified._

She stood quietly in the doorway, the soft lights from behind illuminating her hair into tendrils of fire that spilled down her shoulders and over her cheeks. She was simply dressed in a loose nightgown of cream and silk that cascaded smoothly down her body, lightly brushing the floor and revealing the red tips of her toes. Her hands were clasped in front of her, the slight twisting of her fingers the only hint that she was anything other than perfectly at ease. Her eyes were dusky blue, the way they always seemed to deepen at the end of the day. Chakotay didn't move.

He was transfixed.

"Chakotay," her voice was soft.

"You look beautiful."

She gave him an odd look. "Been hitting the Antarian cider again, Captain?"

"I-what? No, no." he assured her hastily.

"Do you want to come in?" There was the slightest hint of laughter in her voice. "I usually try to avoid standing in the hallway in my nightgown."

"Oh, yes, Captain. I mean, Admiral." He entered her apartment hurriedly, then stopped when she came to a standstill in front of him, a strange smile playing around her lips.

"Chakotay, in all the years I've known you, I don't think we've ever had such a purely Kathryn moment," she said wryly, glancing down at her attire.

"Oh, right," he mumbled. "Sorry, Kathryn."

"Sit down." She gestured to the couch standing in the center of the living room. It was a rich brown, sleek and overstuffed, with a mound of pillows that could hide a small child. "Can I get you some tea? Or would you like to join me in a cup of coffee?"

_Whiskey, straight up, he thought._

"Tea would be perfect," he said aloud. He strode over to the couch and sat on the very edge, not allowing himself to relax back into the cushions. Kathryn walked over to a replicator at one end of the room. She withdrew two steaming mugs and set one down on the coffee table in front of him. Needing something to do with his hands, he grasped it immediately, taking a tentative sip. He swallowed then looked at her in surprise.

"This is my own blend, the one I programmed on Voyager," he murmured.

"Yes," she said. "I downloaded the specifications before I left the ship." A slight flush washed over her pale cheeks. He flinched, understanding exactly what she hadn't said.

"Kathryn," he said quietly. He took her free hand in both of his, cradling her tiny fingers in his much larger ones. She looked away for a minute, but then her eyes met his, and he saw the barest beginnings of tears. And then he saw what he hadn't seen before, when he had almost lost himself to her right there in the doorway. Her vibrant blue eyes were dull and bloodshot, with seemingly ineradicable smudges underneath. Her hair that had seemed to glow in a glorious halo around her face was merely tangled. Her cheeks were white, a pallor that even makeup couldn't conceal, and she was way too thin, thinner than he had ever seen her on Voyager, even in the worst of times.

She was still beautiful, and his heart was pounding way too hard.

"Kathryn, I-" he started to say.

But something in her eyes hardened, and she yanked her hand away from his, rising from the couch and walking over to the enormous picture window in the back of the room. Her curtains were open, but the window offered no breathtaking view like his. It was filled by the stoic façade of Starfleet Headquarters rising in close proximity, all windows and doors and sharp corners and no beauty.

"Why did you come here, Chakotay?" Her voice was ragged, as if the edges had been worn away by all the pain of the years. "To comfort me? To tell me that you're sorry? Or that you feel sorry for me? Poor Kathryn, she really managed to humiliate herself at the homecoming party. Didn't she realize that he was in love with Seven? What made her think she ever had a chance?" Her arms were crossed tightly in front of her chest as if holding some part of her inside.

"Stop it, Kathryn," Chakotay said roughly, walking over to stand beside her.

"No, I won't!" she yelled, stepping close to him, so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek. "I've held everything in for seven years. Seven years, Chakotay! Just so things would be easier on everybody else! But I'm tired, and you know what? It doesn't matter anymore! It never did. It never made any difference." She was almost crying, the words bursting from her throat like misaimed photon torpedoes.

And she was standing way too close.

"I love you, Kathryn," he said fiercely. "And that's all that matters to me." He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her against him, resting his forehead against hers. He could feel every part of her battling, the way her chest heaved with suppressed sobs, the way her heart was pounding in almost the same rhythm as his, the way her hands were trembling as they pressed against his chest, trying to push him away. She finally gave up, a definitive instant of surrender. Her arms dropped to her sides and then slid around his back, holding him tightly. Her forehead pressed wearily against his, their lips almost brushing. He felt her tears wander onto his own cheeks or maybe he was crying too.

"I hate needing you the way I do," she murmured.

"I need you just as much," he said.

"I know," she whispered, and suddenly her mouth was pressed against his, and he was gasping for breath. The world seemed to turn momentarily dark all around them with fading pinpricks of light in the distance and then the room was all blazing sun and brilliance. He gently stepped away from Kathryn and tried to steady himself. Her eyes were dark when she looked at him.

"Come. Sit with me." He held out his hand and led her back to the couch. She followed without protest, but she seemed almost hollow, as if she had exerted the last bit of passion within her soul with that kiss. Her eyes refused to meet his.

"I need to tell you about Seven," he said, lifting her chin with his hand. "I need you to know." She flinched but held his gaze steadily.

"First off, we're no longer together, if we ever really were."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Angry words with no anger behind them.

"It means that it wasn't working with Seven. And not because of anything either of us did. It didn't work because it was wrong. Since the first moment we met, anyone but you has been wrong."

"That's not what the Admiral told me." Her voice dripped with bitterness colored by guilt.

"Kathryn," he said in dismay. "What did she say? And why would you believe her? She was trying to manipulate us all and you were at the top of her list." He attempted to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

"She told me that the two of you got married. And that Seven was injured in an away mission I sent her on. She said that Seven died in your arms. And that you were never the same after that," Kathryn said softly, her voice distant.

"Did you ever think that maybe she just told you that to get you to agree with her insane plan?" Chakotay asked, his voice verging on true anger. "Because with the way things were going, I can't imagine that we ever would have gotten that far."

"But why would she lie to me like that? The fact that you were married wouldn't have changed my mind."

"I don't know," Chakotay admitted. "But I can tell you one thing, Kathryn, if I was never the same, it was because I was being eaten up by guilt—guilt that I married her when I knew I should have been with you." He felt his voice catch on the words and rubbed a quick hand across his face.

"Chakotay, you wouldn't have married her if things hadn't gotten better between the two of you. You're not that kind of man," Kathryn protested, taking a sip from the steaming silver mug cradled in her hands. Chakotay dropped his fist to his lap with a thump; she was determined to negate everything he was saying.

"Did you ever think, you stubborn, irritating woman, that _perhaps_ the reason I ended up marrying Seven in that timeline was because you drove me to it?" he said in exasperation. To his surprise, Kathryn began to laugh through her mouthful of coffee, spraying him, herself, and the coffee table in front of them.

"Graceful," he commented dryly, his eyebrows twitching. "I can see why they promoted you to the Admiralty."

He finally got what he had been hoping for—a rise out of Kathryn. The defeated look in her eyes was replaced by annoyance, challenge, and something else he couldn't quite define.

And then she punched him.

He bent over, clutching his shoulder in unfeigned agony. That had been no pulled punch. She had put all of her strength into it. And despite her size, that strength was not inconsiderable. He stared mutely at her with wide, pleading eyes.

She shrugged and grinned. "It made me feel better." She propped her legs up on the table and took another sip of coffee. Chakotay continued to massage his injury, half-glaring at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm never going to get the upper hand with you, am I?" he asked.

"You haven't so far," she responded airily. "Of course, there's always time. The rest of our lives."

"That's a long time," he agreed. "At least I hope so." He winked at her and crossed his fingers, and suddenly all she could see in her mind was the vast green forests of New Earth, his mostly unspoken pledges of love, and the way his every thought, his every gesture, was designed specifically with her in mind.

"I want that," she whispered suddenly. "I want the rest of our lives." She reached out and lightly traced the tattoo on his forehead.

"So do I," he murmured, his lips suddenly trembling. Then he rose from the couch and offered her his hand. She took it and melted into him as he pulled her into a fierce embrace, and all he could think in his mind was how she fit perfectly into him, how their bodies and minds and souls melded seamlessly into one another as if they had never been apart.

And as he stood there, holding her tightly in his arms, this woman he loved with every inch of who he was, he realized that after everything, finally, he knew exactly what he was doing.

And it was right.


	10. Chapter 10

Ambivalence

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Author's Note: This chapter's for mab13j :)

Chapter 5—Kathryn

Kathryn lay with her head in Chakotay's lap as he played with her hair, savoring the contours of his muscled body beneath her, his breathtaking closeness, and simply the feel of _him. _

The time for running was over.

"You know," he said in a voice barely above a whisper, "I've dreamed of just being with you like this for years. Of holding you. Of finally being able to tell you that I love you. And"—his voice caught, the hand stroking her hair stilling—"of hearing you say you love _me_."

"Chakotay, I think I might have loved you from the moment you destroyed your ship to save mine, the ship of your enemy, the woman who had been sent to capture you. I always felt safe with you, but I didn't understand why."

"Neither did I," he admitted. "But I knew that something about being with you changed who I was inside. It brought me the peace I had never known. When we stepped back onto Earth for the first time, I knew I was returning a better man than when I left." His eyes were bright with unshed tears, and Kathryn slipped her arms around him. Chakotay held her tightly, his face against her hair.

"I'm sorry I was never able…no, I'm sorry that I never _chose_ to give you what you gave me. Every day that we were out there," Kathryn whispered, hiding her face in his chest.

"Your mother said I was your saving grace," he murmured, and she picked up her head, startled. "But I told her you were mine."

Kathryn cradled his face in her hands and looked intently into his eyes from close range.

"Chakotay, I need you to know something. All those times I pulled away, all those times I pushed you further and further from me, it was never because my feelings had changed."

"I know," he said. "I've always known." Kathryn half-smiled, her lips trembling.

"I constantly questioned myself, going back and forth between what I wanted and who I thought I had to be," she said softly. "I think somewhere inside I truly believed that if I never made the decision, then it couldn't be the wrong one. But I _was _wrong. Because choosing _not _to choose is still a choice. And no matter what they teach you in physics, _inaction_ is still an action."

Chakotay reached up and pressed his hands against hers, his eyes closed. He sighed.

"Yes," he finally said. "You're right. I knew I loved you, Kathryn. But I also knew you were struggling. And so was I. I didn't know if stepping back would make it easier for both of us. But I didn't think that I could live with that."

"Holding on or letting go," she breathed. He glanced at her with a thoughtful expression and then nodded slowly.

"Exactly," he said.

"Well," she said, a slight grin crossing her lips. "Now that we're holding on, I don't think either of us is going to let go."

"I love you, Kathryn Janeway." He pulled her even closer and then kissed her until neither of them could breathe. They sat quietly for several moments, foreheads resting against one another, feeling each other's breath.

"How do you feel about dessert?" he asked somewhat sheepishly when he could once again speak.

"You're still hungry?" she said incredulously. "How is that possible? You ate all your dinner and half of mine. I may have to requisition a second replicator."

"I may not be your First Officer anymore," he said, getting off the couch and dragging her with him. "But it occurs to me that you have been skipping far too many meals." Although his tone was light, his eyes grazed her too-thin figure with concern.

"I haven't been eating very well lately," she admitted, ducking her head. "No one around to nag me." She elbowed him lightly in the ribs. "What would you like?"

"Surprise me," Chakotay replied mischievously. "You're good at that."

"I wouldn't have believed I could still surprise you after all these years," she retorted. She sauntered back to the couch, handing him a brownie with vanilla ice cream and hot fudge sauce.

"Well," he said, digging into his dish, "you _did_ kiss me today."

"Good point," she said. He smiled smugly.

"I expect you still have a few surprises up your sleeve," he predicted, popping the spoon into his mouth.

"Will you marry me?" she asked casually.

The bite of ice cream exploded from Chakotay's mouth, and he emerged from the eruption coughing and gasping.

"_Excuse me_?" he finally managed to choke out.

"Graceful," she said pointedly. "And I was just kidding." Chakotay wiped his mouth on his napkin, still sputtering slightly.

"Does that mean you _don't_ want to marry me?" he asked, eying her suspiciously from behind the napkin. She smiled a little, biting her lip.

"I want it more than anything," she said quietly but determinedly. She laid her hand lightly on his knee. He picked it up and threaded his fingers through hers, setting his dish down on the table.

Then he reached over and dug his spoon into her ice cream. A smile crossed his lips as the familiar taste settled on his tongue.

"Coffee," he said.

"Of course."

He leaned over and snagged another bite.

"We need to talk about this," she suddenly said in a serious tone. "We need to define some parameters..."

Chakotay's face froze, his full spoon pausing in midair.

"About you eating my dessert," she finished, her eyebrows raised imperiously.

There was a definitive moment of silence as their eyes met.

Then Kathryn caught the tiniest glimpse of movement from Chakotay. And she was up and out of her seat, running, before the ice cream hit her.

The End


End file.
